


Grappling with a ghost

by cherryvanilla



Series: The Riot's Gone Away (s14 Codas) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Episode Tag, Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Established Relationship, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: “You okay?” Dean asks roughly. It’s a inane question, more rhetorical than anything else. But he can’t help it. It’s his job: take care of Sammy. Except he knows now that, for the first time ever, their dad expects them to take care ofeach other. And it feels odd, to think about that, despite the fact that they’ve actually been doing it all along.(Part of mys14 codasseries, but can also standalone.)





	Grappling with a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 300th, all. Take some tears and sex and love, the Winchester way <3 
> 
> Title still from Santigold's The Riot's Gone, found here.

They stand there, staring at the space where Dad just occupied. Dean’s chest hurts, a sharp shatter right through his heart the second Sam shattered the pearl. 

Dean’s grateful Sam was the one to do it; he’s not sure he could’ve taken on the task, big brother or not. Hearing Dad say “Sammy,” was surreal in and of itself. It’s been so long since he’s heard that name out of someone’s mouth other than his own. 

Then Cas comes, and there’s more just standing around and staring. 

Dean breaks, wiping hard at his eyes and risking a glance at Sam. He’s crying even harder than last week. Dean blinks through his own tears, trying to get them under control for Sammy. He’s extremely tired of seeing his brother sniffling with red, glassy eyes. Yet he keeps being the cause of it all. 

“I, uh. I’m gonna—”

Sam’s voice is rough and he waves vaguely at the air before ducking out of the room. 

“Sam—“ Mom starts but Dean waves her off. 

“I got it.” He glances at Cas, who looks completely confused, and takes off after his brother. Mom can fill him in. 

Dean knocks on Sam’s door, feeling oddly tentative and unused to knocking. 

“Yeah,” he hears Sam call, warily, followed by a loud sniff. Dean takes it as an invitation to enter. 

Sam doesn’t seem surprised that it’s him. They’ve barely left each other’s side since heading back to the bunker last week. Jack and Cas took off pretty quick as if knowing they required some alone time. Sam had spent a shit ton of time researching, almost as much as he spent coming from Dean’s mouth and hands and dick. They’d taken advantage of the empty bunker, all over one another in practically every room. Then they’d heard about the killing of a fellow hunter and went investigating. 

“You okay?” Dean asks roughly. It’s a inane question, more rhetorical than anything else. But he can’t help it. It’s his job: take care of Sammy. Except he knows now that, for the first time ever, their dad expects them to take care of _each other_. And it feels odd, to think about that, despite the fact that they’ve actually been doing it all along.

Sam shrugs, and his face crumples a little more. Dean can’t stand it anymore, steps in close and gathers Sam into his arms. For the second time in a week, his brother is crying against his shoulder and all Dean can do is hold him. 

“I couldn’t even — I couldn’t even get a word out. I didn’t,” Sam gasps through his sobs, “I didn’t tell him I love him.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut tight, blowing out a breath. “He knows,” he replies, choked. He's got one hand splayed wide on Sam’s back, stroking downward while the other caresses his hair. “He always knew.”

He feels Sam nod stiffly, body shaking with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, biting back another sob of his own. 

Sam pulls back, meeting his eye. “What for?”

“This,” Dean says, hand dropping from Sam’s hair to the back of his neck. "All — I’m sorry getting rid of Michael wasn’t my heart’s desire. I’m sorry you — we — had to lose him again.”

Sam’s eyes widen and then he’s shaking his head, hair a messy cascade in front of his eyes. “Man, don’t apologize for that. I, shit, Dean I got to say _goodbye_.”

Dean nods, rubbing at his eyes again. “Okay, Yeah.” Still… 

Reading his mind, Sam continues. “And as for Michael — you couldn’t control that. It’s a totally subconcious thing.”

Dean smirks a little at that, raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like material for your next Ted Talk.”

Sam doesn’t laugh. Instead, he flinches. 

“Hey, Sammy—"

Sam jerks his head, looking down and away. “I hate that that could’ve been me. If I’d… if you hadn’t come to get me. If I’d followed through with the normalcy I thought I needed. Cutting myself off from everything? Acting like — like fucking Tom Cruise in Magnolia or something.”

“Your movie references, dude.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, but Dean can see a slight twitch to his lips. “I’m just saying— did I want to send Dad back? No. But like you said — I’m good with who we are. And I don’t want to be that person, Dean.”

Dean steps in close again, gripping the back of Sam’s neck and forcing their eyes to meet. “You aren’t. And you never will be as long as you’ve got me.”

 _What if I don’t have you?_ hangs unspoken and heavy in the air between them. Nothing has changed. This was just a timeline detour in their quest to get rid of Michael for good. 

“Dean…”

“No more talking,” he whispers, before pressing their lips together. It’s slow and deep, like many of their kisses have been lately. Dean wants to drink his brother in, savior him like a fine whiskey. 

They didn’t fill Dad in about this particular aspect of their relationship, and of course Mom still hasn’t got a clue. Dean has no idea how they would’ve reacted if he’d taken Sam’s hand at dinner. If Dean had leaned over and placed a soft kiss to Sam's temple while gently ribbing him for his serial killer obsession. 

He imagines horror, shock, maybe even anger. But he also wonders if they’d see it the way Dean does. That Sam is the only person, past, present or future that is his entire fucking world. They need each other; without each other, they fall to pieces, become criminals or kale eating douchebags. And loving Sam this way is a mere extension of expressing that. It barely grazes the surface of how he feels about his brother. How he’s always felt, and would always feel, even if they weren’t warming the sheets together. 

Dean’s shaken from his thoughts by Sam’s needy sigh against his mouth. Dean kisses him a little harder and Sam whimpers softly when Dean pulls one of his lips between his teeth, biting. 

They’re taking a risk doing this right now. Mom is probably concerned, and Cas likely has more questions. But Dean can’t care. He needs Sam, and Sam needs him. That’s a constant that won’t ever change. They fall into Sam’s bed and kiss and kiss. They’ve made out so god damn much lately that Dean’s lips feel permanently swollen.

They don’t go for anything complicated, stripping one another slowly and then rocking together, bodies tight and sweat-slicked. Dean covers Sam, pressing down, their dicks hot and heavy against one another. Sam gasps into his mouth, and Dean swallows every sound. They take each other to the edge and back again, drawing it out, making it last. By the time they come, Dean’s damn near crazed with arousal and Sam is voicing barely muffled sobs of pleasure into his neck. 

They don’t move afterward, collapsed in a tangled heap of sweat and sex. Sam is playing with the short hairs at the back of Dean’s neck. Dean drags his hands up his brother’s flank, nails scratching lightly. 

“I’m no good without you,” Sam whispers, mouth close to Dean’s ear, words like a confession that Dean was already privy to. . 

“Ditto that, Sammy.” He places a kiss to Sam’s chest and burrows in closer, still refusing to call it cuddling. 

They’ll find a way. No way is Dean checking out now. After all, they have to take care of each other. 

The End


End file.
